Each day I sit here enveloped by gloom, more so because you are not here to help me bide the time. I keep your favorite trinkets near the window. Like the swelling muddy river below, memories of our adventures flood my head with melancholy.
This house has become a prison to me since the accident. The visiting nurse brought fresh flowers hoping to cheer me. But eventually they died, reminding me of you.
Do you think of me in heaven, dearest? I pray each day that God would allow me to join you there.
~kat 18 March 2016
A flash of fiction in letter form for Friday Fictioneer’s Challenge based on the photo above by our hostess, Rochell Wisoff-Fields. Read other stories HERE.